


Northern England, Starlit Roams Jane

by somepallings



Category: Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell - Susanna Clarke
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, F/F, I know this is a cliche but I have some IDEAS and I must EXPRESS them, and some people are boys who were girls, and some people are non-binary, and some people are not changed at all, if you think about her too you'll understand, some people are girls who were boys, this is because I couldn't stop thinking about Jane Childermass OK
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:40:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24175246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somepallings/pseuds/somepallings
Summary: Miss Segundus asks the question, Miss Norrell doesn't approve, Childermass is waiting in hope of her King's return.
Relationships: John Childermass/John Segundus
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	Northern England, Starlit Roams Jane

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be the most sporadically-updated thing ever, I'm sorry.

In the city of York there lived a woman named Mrs Honeyfoot, whose cousin John had sadly not long died, leaving his only daughter an orphan with very little inheritance. This daughter had written to Mrs Honeyfoot, explaining that she was to have a small allowance, enough for daily expenses, but the house must be sold and so she was left without any place to live. She had no brothers who might take her in, and having lived to the age of six-and-thirty in her father’s house, reading and studying, taking walks and visiting neighbours, she did not think she would easily find a position as a governess or any other such respectable occupation, and so, though it gave her pain to do so, she found herself in the indelicate position of having to ask her only relative if she might have room for her.

Mrs Honeyfoot had been immediately struck with sympathy for this younger cousin she barely knew. She had been great friends with her cousin John in her youth (indeed he had been a friendly sort of fellow who got on well with everyone) but they had lost touch after her marriage to Mr Honeyfoot. She had known that he had married and had a daughter, but that his wife had died young and he had never taken another.

She had read Mr Honeyfoot the letter, explaining to him about her childhood friendship with her cousin, but before she had even truly begun her husband had interrupted to say that of course they must invite this friendless young lady to live with them: “She can have the blue room, my dear, you know it is empty now Thomas is gone to London.”

The Honeyfoots had three sons: the eldest was married and set up in his own home in Newcastle, the youngest still living with them and the other now working and living in London. Mrs Honeyfoot had felt on many occasions that the house on High Petergate had seemed very empty these last few years, and if, as her letter had hinted, her cousin was a scholar then she might be able to help persuade Simon, their youngest, to take more of an interest in his own studies.

Mrs Honeyfoot, rejoicing in her husband’s approval of her plan, had written immediately back to her cousin advising her that nothing would make them happier than to have her in their home.

And so, three weeks later, Miss Jane Segundus, lately of Kent, arrived in York.

Miss Segundus was the kind of lady you could walk past in the street and not take a moment’s notice of. She wore a much-mended green dress with a brown spencer, she had on a very modest hat that had seen better days, and she carried all her worldly possessions (mostly books) in a leather valise which Mr Honeyfoot took from her immediately and insisted on carrying up to the house for her.

As to her character, it must be said that Miss Segundus had been extremely embarrassed to have had to write such a letter to her father’s cousin, a woman whom she had never met, and had worked herself into a miserable state while waiting for the reply. She had never imposed on anyone in her life before and was far from thrilled to be beginning now. Her fears, of course, had all been scattered to the wind when she received the most cordial, friendly and welcoming letter she had ever received in her life, and now, meeting her cousin’s husband Mr Honeyfoot, she began to believe that she might be welcome here in York.

They proceeded up High Petergate and into the house, Mr Honeyfoot enquiring all the way about her journey, her health, and her scholarly interests. When she replied that her main area of study was magic, he nearly dropped her case down the front steps of the house in excitement.

“Magic, Miss Segundus? My goodness, how surprising to hear you say so! That is very unusual for a lady.” Abashed, he continued “That is to say I am glad to hear it, as magic is my particular interest as well, and I would be glad to show you my small collection of books about magic, should you wish.” Miss Segundus assured him in turn that she would be very glad to, and though she tried to keep her tone moderate and her speech modest, she found she could not help but tell this open-hearted, friendly cousin a little about her life in Kent.

“You see,” she said, “I have always had an interest in magic, and I have had a long, solitary time to read as much as I wished these past years. My friends have all married now, and begun keeping house, and dear father was never very much interested. He had his own affairs to think of.”

They continued into the house and Mr Honeyfoot proceeded in a cheerful fashion to tell Miss Segundus of all the diversions of York: the walks to be had, the musical entertainment, the cathedral, the shops (particularly the bookshops!), and the pleasant society. They were interrupted by Mrs Honeyfoot emerging from the morning room, and Miss Segundus found her to be as warm and welcoming as her husband. She immediately enveloped Jane in a suffocating embrace, but Jane, on the whole, felt rather pleased to be suffocated. She had not properly realised how starved of company and affection she had been these past few years, since her friend Miss Foster had married, and her father taken ill.

She soon found herself ushered into the blue room, so named for its cool blue wallpaper and a matching quilt on the bed that looked as warm as the Honeyfoots’ affection. She closed the door and sat down in the window-seat. The window looked out over High-Petergate, and Miss Segundus sat there for a while, watching the bustle of the people in the street and wondering how she would fare here in this unfamiliar city.

*

As the days passed, Miss Segundus became quite disappointed, as Mr Honeyfoot did not renew his promise to show her his (very small) collection of books about magic. She began to notice that often Mr Honeyfoot would appear to be on the point of saying something, and then seem to think better of it and instead exclaim about the weather, or the price of potatoes, or some other pleasant non-sequitur. By this, she theorised that the old gentleman did not wish to impose on her good nature, and, as someone who had often had to dampen her enthusiasm in order to spare someone else’s feelings, she resolved to break the ice herself the next night at dinner.

She was becoming fast friends with sixteen-year-old Simon, the Honeyfoots’ youngest son. He was at that delicate stage of deciding what he wanted to do with his life, having two older brothers as examples and warnings, and he took great delight in regaling “cousin Jane” with long, meandering speeches about his path in life, the books he had read and the great figure he would one day become.

So it was that, at the dinner table one Monday night, Miss Segundus looked across the table at Simon and said: “Cousin Simon, dear, I wonder if you would be so good as to tell me, have you read any of Signor Pinetti’s _Annotations and Meditations on Prospero’s Archipelago_? I heard your tutor speak of it to you the other day, did he leave you his copy, by chance?”

From the corner of her eye she saw that Mr Honeyfoot had looked sharply up from his dinner, and his ears were becoming rather pink.

Simon said nothing, merely shook his head as he shovelled meat and potatoes into his mouth at a rate that only a 16-year-old boy could aspire to. His mother scolded him gently with a rap to the knuckles with the back of her spoon, but before he could speak and save his reputation, his father spoke instead:

“Prospero’s Archipelago! It is most interesting you should mention that particular book, Miss Segundus, for a bookseller friend of mine has told me that he will soon be obtaining a copy of the book, or, I should say, perhaps, a French translation, or some other abstraction, but certainly a book of very great interest, and I was thinking of adding it to my modest library.”

These words spilled out of Mr Honeyfoot in a torrent, and Miss Segundus was very pleased to see that her idea to draw him out had been a right one.

“My goodness, Mr Honeyfoot, that is very interesting!” she replied. “To own a book of magic would be a fine thing, indeed!”

Simon looked first at his father, then at his cousin and, seeing that he was surplus to requirements, set to his potatoes once again.

“Oh, I have no real hopes of it being the book itself, dear cousin, but this bookseller, Mr James on Goodramgate, you know, he feels that, whatever it might be, it is something remarkable.”

From this day on, Miss Segundus and Mr Honeyfoot were often to be found talking of magic, and books of magic, and magicians; at dinner, in the garden when taking tea, and especially in the library, where Mr Honeyfoot had proudly shown Jane his whole collection of books about magic, and invited her to add her own books to the shelves: “If you wish to, dear cousin Jane, of course, and I hope that you might count my books among your own also, however long you live here with us!”

If Mrs Honeyfoot had been inclined to feel left out in all this, she quickly discovered that there was no need, as Miss Segundus was just as pleased to talk with Mrs Honeyfoot of gardening, and novels, and fashion, and so all in all, everyone was inclined to agree that Miss Segundus coming to live with them was rather a blessing.

*

“It is very kind of you, but I fear I would be making myself very disagreeable.” Said Miss Segundus, putting down the book she had been reading and looking up at Mr Honeyfoot, who was standing in the library doorway.

“You must not say that, I am quite determined to take you along. I have been a member for years now, they know me, and if you are my guest it will be quite respectable.”

Miss Segundus now found herself in the rather delicate position of feeling that she must argue against something that in fact she wanted very much.

“But cousin, you have said yourself that the Learned Society of York Magicians are… rather old-fashioned.”

“No, in fact, Miss Segundus,” replied Mr Honeyfoot, “I said that they are a lot of stuffy old men who would scarcely know a spell if it was cast right before their eyes. Which was perhaps uncharitable of me, but, Miss Segundus, the question you have just asked me, in plain English, is the most interesting question that I have ever been asked, and I would very much like you to stand up at the meeting this evening and ask it!”

Miss Segundus felt a thrill of excitement at the idea. For propriety’s sake, she opened her mouth to make another demurral, but she was immediately silenced by Mr Honeyfoot’s genial determination.

“No, Miss Segundus, you need not try to persuade me, I can see that you approve of my plan and I will brook no impediment to us carrying it out!”

With this, he exited the library in a great state of excitement, letting the door bang shut behind him.

Miss Segundus sat for a moment in silence, and then began to laugh. She covered her mouth with the back of her hand and hiccupped into silence. To attend a meeting of magicians! To speak at the behest of one of the members! This was all so far above her ambition that she could not quite believe it.  
  
*

She still could not believe it five hours later, when she had, in point of fact, done it.

She had not, as she had feared she might, been laughed out of the building, but that is not to say that her question, indeed her presence, had been well-received. Mr Honeyfoot, all confidence and cheerful obliviousness, had introduced her to Dr Foxcastle as his young cousin, lately moved to York and with a powerful interest in magic. The venerable doctor did not appear pleased by this intelligence, but he seemed content to suffer her presence as long as she sat quietly next to Mr Honeyfoot, nibbling on bread and listening intently.

Some of the gentlemen were rather vocally put-out by the presence of a woman at their meeting, especially one who, though not in the first blush of her youth, could be descried as “a young lady” at least in comparison to the venerable gentlemen surrounding her, but just as many were delighted to have an interested female ear into which to pour their theories and for whom to parade upon their hobby-horses.  
  
It was only when, nudged and encouraged by Mr Honeyfoot, Miss Segundus had stood up and cleared her throat, that things began to go wrong.  
  
“I did tell you, Mr Honeyfoot,” she said mournfully as she took his arm for the short walk along Stonegate and High-Petergate back to the house, “I did tell you that I would be making myself disagreeable. I do not think that there was any need for them to be so rude to me!”

Mr Honeyfoot patted her arm consolingly.

“No, it was intolerably rude of them to speak to you so, most uncalled for,” he said, though his serious tone was rather spoiled by the enormous grin on his face, “I haven’t seen that old fool Foxcastle so exercised in 15 years, cousin Jane!”

He laughed aloud, which made Jane laugh in turn, and she began to feel a little better about things. Who could ever need the support of such a society, when one has the support of one’s family?

*

The next morning, Jane Segundus awoke with a plan fully formed in her mind. She took breakfast with Mrs Honeyfoot and Simon, Mr Honeyfoot being busy with some business in his study. Mrs Honeyfoot was most excited as her middle son, Thomas, was planning a long visit, and she seemed very keen for Miss Segundus to meet him. She read his letter to them in full, and made a particular point of mentioning that Thomas, while not a scholar himself, was a great admirer of learning.

Miss Segundus smiled politely and said that she was very much looking forward to meeting her cousin Thomas.

As soon as breakfast was over, Miss Segundus took possession of the morning room in order to write a letter. It was not a long letter, but she wished to make a good impression on its recipient and so she took her time over it.

On her way to make her (very few, her acquaintance in York not yet being very large) morning calls, she posted the letter, feeling her heart in her mouth at her own daring, and over luncheon she broached the topic to Mr Honeyfoot, as she would need his help in carrying it out.

“I have been thinking about what was said to me at the meeting last night”, she began.

Mrs Honeyfoot, who had had the whole story from both of them, interjected comfortingly: “Oh, but my dear, you should not think much on what those rude fellows had to say! What do they know of modesty, or propriety, or any of the things they profess themselves so qualified to pronounce on? Why I’ve seen that Mr Hunt, or Hart, or whatever he names himself, out in the street with gravy on his waistcoat more times that I can count, and as for Dr Foxcastle, he wouldn’t know courtesy or civility if it sat on his head.”

Mr Honeyfoot nodded in vehement agreement; his mouth full of cheese scone.

Miss Segundus smiled to hear their defence of her, and continued: “Oh, no, you must not think that I am succumbing to low spirits! I was only thinking how best to prove them wrong.”

Mr Honeyfoot clapped his hands together in glee.

“I have heard,” said Miss Segundus, “Of a lady who lives not too very far from here. A wealthy spinster who is rumoured to have an extensive library. An extensive _magical_ library, to be precise. This lady, Miss Norrell, has a reputation for scholarly pursuits, and apparently she is considered very odd by her neighbours.”

She took a sip of her tea and laid her hands flat on the table, a habit she had when making a point or laying out an idea, and told the Honeyfoots all about the letter she had sent that morning, asking this lady if she would permit a visit from Miss Segundus and, if he would agree to accompany her, Mr Honeyfoot, in order to discuss her magical library.

“I did not say so in the letter, not in so many words, but I have hope that, if she is willing to see me, this lady may prove a friend and ally in my effort to be taken seriously and to have my questions discussed as rational by the Learned Society.” She laughed self-deprecatingly, “In asking me to stand up at the meeting, cousin, you have made me bold!”

Mrs Honeyfoot was very interested in this plan, saying: “Think, also, dearest Jane: this lady may have been waiting all these years for a fellow woman-magician to come along. She may want to start her own society with you, Jane, a Learned Society of Lady Magicians!”

Miss Segundus found she could not quite pin her hopes this high, but she awaited a reply to her letter with more optimism than she had felt since… well, in a very long time.

*

The much-anticipated reply took two weeks to arrive. By the time she received it, Miss Segundus had passed through the straits of anticipation, worry, anxiety and mortification, and was just beginning to believe herself deliberately ignored.

The letter had the air of something much rewritten, copied out and rewritten again, and the most flattering word one could use to describe its tone was “chilly”, but it thanked Miss Segundus for her kind interest and invited her to visit, with a suitable companion, any time in the coming four or five days. So after sending a thank you and confirming the date of their visit, Miss Segundus and Mr Honeyfoot set out by carriage to visit Hurtfew Abbey.

They drew up to the front gate and Mr Honeyfoot hopped down in order to help Miss Segundus down from the carriage. They approached the imposing from doors, which seemed like they had been locked some time in the 14th century and would not be unlocked again until the last trump sounded, and knocked.

The door creaked open, and Miss Segundus could do nothing but stare at the creature who stood before them.

She was dressed most respectably in a linen dress that must once have been black with a sturdy-looking apron over the top, and at her waist a brooch in the shape of a raven’s head, from which dangled on black chains a pair of scissors, a masculine pocket watch and a few other small items that Miss Segundus could not readily identify. She had very dark hair, scraped into a severe bun but with much escaping at the sides, and a long nose down which she looked at the two of them, standing there on the front step. For all her respectable dress, she had a wild look that made Miss Segundus think of the witches of Macbeth, or some other moor-dwelling enchantress from a fairy tale.

This woman was surely the housekeeper, although any house kept by her must be a strange one. Miss Segundus smiled ruefully to herself at her own romantic nonsense, to be imagining such things of a housekeeper, and the woman on the top step noticed her smile, looking sharply at Miss Segundus, who, abashed, immediately schooled her face into a polite visitor’s smile.

The vision in faded black sighed, cutting Mr Honeyfoot’s polite greeting off with a wave of her hand, and said, in a Yorkshire accent, “You’d best come in then. The mistress is in the library.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you very very much to BeautifulSoup and touchmytardis for letting me yell at them about this and being encouraging back, and to DT Esq. (name changed to protect the "innocent") for coming up with and helping me embellish a great many romantic scenarios that might see the light of day if I ever get over my shyness, and to Crossest Man for just the usual over-the-top level of inspiration and support.


End file.
